From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 193: Of Silence and Sandalwood (part 1)

After the doctor finished her explanation, Micah and Darcy both stood up and thanked her sincerely.

Dr Hansley smiled briefly, nodding politely as she gathered her tablet. "We’ll wait to hear from you. Take your time," she said before walking out, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

Micah turned toward Darcy, adjusting his glasses on his face. "So...what do you think?"

Darcy reached for the strap of his bag and tugged it back onto his shoulder. His eyes shifted away from Micah and landed somewhere on the carpet. "I want my mum to try it. But in the end, it’s her decision."

Micah nodded slowly. "Yeah."

He glanced around, eyes darting across the sleek furniture, the empty chairs, the half-drunk cup of water on the table. His shoulders dropped just slightly. The nervous energy that had built up in his chest before coming here seemed to drain out all at once, leaving him hollow.

He had worked himself up too much. All morning, he had been fidgeting with his sleeves, checking his phone, bouncing his feet worrying how to face the man. But the person he thought would be there, should be there, never came.

All his nervousness and anticipation felt foolish now.

Clyde didn’t come.

Micah tried to pretend it didn’t matter. But the realisation hit him like a splash of cold water on his face. His stomach twisted sharply.

He looked away quickly and cleared his throat. "I’m gonna head to the loo," he said, forcing a casual tone. "Wait here a bit."

Darcy halted. His head snapped toward Micah. But before he could get a proper look at him, the boy turned sharply and slipped out of the lounge like he couldn’t get away fast enough.

Darcy stared after him, frozen in place. Something about Micah’s movement felt off. His steps were too quick, his voice a bit strained. Was he still feeling sick from last night? Hungover? Or was it just a normal trip to the bathroom?

He took a cautious step toward the door, unsure if he should follow. But before he could make up his mind, a voice stopped him.

"Oh, good. You are still here," Dr. Hansley said as she stepped back into the room, holding a neat stack of papers in one hand and a tablet in the other.

Micah blinked and shifted back toward her as she approached.

"I forgot to give you the forms for the clinical trial," she said, offering the papers. "These include general information, steps for enrollment, and details about how the treatment will be administered. Also, what to do if anything unusual comes up."

Darcy nodded, taking the forms carefully. The papers felt too thick in his hand. He glanced down at the top page, skimming over the bold headers and long sentences.

"My colleague here," Dr. Hansley continued, gesturing toward a man in a clean white lab coat who had just entered the room, "will walk you through the legal consent process. He’ll also explain how your family’s privacy and medical data will be protected."

The man gave Darcy a polite nod.

Darcy nodded back, distracted. He couldn’t just walk out now. He clutched the forms tighter and stayed put, even though something in his gut told him he should have gone after Micah.

*****

Micah left the lounge, walking faster than he needed to, shoulders stiff, hands clenching. He looked around for a restroom sign and spotted it at the end of the corridor.

He strolled toward it. Inside the restroom, he pushed into a stall and locked the door behind him. The air smelled of disinfectant and faint soap. He hovered over the toilet, his face pale, breathing unevenly.

Micah gagged, a dry heave tearing from his chest. Nothing came up. Just the burn of acid and a tightening in his gut.

Why?

Why didn’t Clyde come?

Micah placed his hand on the wall, knuckles white, and squeezed his eyes shut.

He thought Clyde would show up. Thought he would appear with that same amused look in his eyes. He always did. No matter how Micah lost his temper, no matter how snappy and unreasonable he got, Clyde never left. Honestly, Clyde had seen more of his flaws than his strong suit.

But he didn’t leave. Instead, he teased him, hit him with those sarcastic remarks that made Micah want to hit him.

That was why he was sure Clyde would come.

He gagged again, feeling bile rise to his throat. "Shit!" he hissed.

Since when did he become this fragile? This sensitive? He wasn’t supposed to care. He never had before. People came and went.

Never cared how they treated him. If someone showed kindness, he would be kind to them. If someone showed hostility, he would beat the crap out of them.

But right now, he felt weak. Exhausted. He couldn’t rely on anyone. He couldn’t tell Darcy the truth. Couldn’t lean on his family.

Not on friends.

He thought he could at least count on Clyde, who had always helped him.

But he also left.

Micah’s head turned fuzzy. He leaned on the wall. Sweat formed on his temple. He couldn’t breathe properly.

His heart pounded. His hands were shaky, and his chest ached. A numbness spread all through his body.

He couldn’t get enough air. He sucked in a breath, but it caught halfway. His lungs refused to expand.

What was happening to him? Was he having a panic attack? freewebnøvel.coɱ

He couldn’t believe it. He, the famous arrogant young master, having an episode? Over what?! Someone not showing up?

This wasn’t him.

The stall felt smaller by the second. The walls were closing in. His head buzzed, vision tunnelling. He couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think.

Fear.

A sense of fear engulfed him.

Then the door flew open with a sharp crack. A foot had slammed it in. Strong arms pulled him in without warning.

Micah gasped as he was yanked into a warm chest.

"Breathe!" a muffled voice spoke near his ear.

Micah’s body jerked instinctively. He tried to push away, heart racing even harder. Who was he?

But then, he saw them. Wooden prayer beads. Familiar. The panic lost some of its grip.

But still, he couldn’t breathe.

"Micah. Breathe." Clyde said, his voice full of anxiety.

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